


Companion Piece #3

by batyatoon



Series: Companion Pieces [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Firefly
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyatoon/pseuds/batyatoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set sometime during Season 4 of <i>Doctor Who</i> and probably post-canon for <i>Firefly</i>.</p><p>Originally posted <a href="http://purimgifts.livejournal.com/58824.html">here</a>, for the 2009 Purimgifts fic exchange.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Companion Piece #3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenRiley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRiley/gifts).



> Set sometime during Season 4 of _Doctor Who_ and probably post-canon for _Firefly_.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://purimgifts.livejournal.com/58824.html), for the 2009 Purimgifts fic exchange.

"And it won't look at all odd, you having a personal assistant?" Donna's still trying to get used to this version of a clipboard; she's got the hang of the stylus, but keeps tapping the wrong bit of the margin and starting it scrolling.

"Not in the least." Inara already has her public smile on, a carefully maintained balance of warmth and regality, as they thread their way down the ramp from the docking bay and into the station proper (a bigger station than _Serenity_ generally docks at, the captain told them when he and the Doctor were coming up with this plan; closer to the Core, whatever that means). "Many Companions prefer to manage their own records instead of retaining a secretary, but it's not unheard of by any means."

"In't that a bit awkward for the men, though? The ... customers, or whatever you'd call em?" She pauses, struck by a further thought -- the implications of this cover story seem to keep getting wider and wider. "Do I screen your calls?"

There's a thread of laughter under Inara's voice. "Let's leave it at keeping track of my schedule, for now." They're turning onto the station's main concourse, broad as the M5 and swarming with people, heading toward the Post Freight & Holding office for their part of the job.

Which goes south almost immediately. The manager comes out right away, bowing over his clasped hands at Inara, who greets him with an incomprehensible stream of Mandarin; he's the very soul of courtesy, offering to show her every service in the catalogue (and looking as though he'd love to ask her to reciprocate, Donna thinks, except evidently that's Not Done with Companions). But no matter how skillfully she guides the conversation, he's not letting drop the details they need about the office's security.

Twenty minutes later they're leaning against the railing of the concourse, overlooking the lower docking ring, and sipping iced tea from the nearby vendor. Well, Donna is leaning; Inara is standing, poised and graceful and looking completely unruffled provided you don't look too closely.

"We'll have to go back and tell them it didn't work," she says through her smile, lowering her head to take a sip of her drink. "There's still time to come up with an alternative."

"Maybe," says Donna, studying the office out of the corner of her eye. "Let me have a go."

Inara's eyebrows develop a millimeter's worth of arch. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well." She taps her fingers against the clipboard she's still holding in her free hand. "I'm sure Mandarin and English and the language of love or whatever is helpful where you're from, Inara, but there's one essential language you don't speak."

"What's that?" It's amused, and maybe a touch intrigued.

"The language of the working bored." Donna tosses her hair and goes to flirt with not the manager, but the stockboy. Maybe he'll be an easier mark.

* * *

  



End file.
